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Maya Angelou poetry collection

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  • Maya Angelou poetry collection

    Men by Maya Angelou
    When I was young, I used to
    Watch behind the curtains
    As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
    Young men sharp as mustard.
    See them. Men are always
    Going somewhere.
    They knew I was there. Fifteen
    Years old and starving for them.
    Under my window, they would pause,
    Their shoulders high like the
    Breasts of a young girl,
    Jacket tails slapping over
    Those behinds,
    Men.

    One day they hold you in the
    Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
    Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
    They tighten up. Just a little. The
    First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
    Soft into your defenselessness. A little
    More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
    Smile that slides around the fear. When the
    Air disappears,
    Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
    Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
    It is your juice
    That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
    When the earth rights itself again,
    And taste tries to return to the tongue,
    Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
    No keys exist.

    Then the window draws full upon
    Your mind. There, just beyond
    The sway of curtains, men walk.
    Knowing something.
    Going someplace.
    But this time, I will simply
    Stand and watch.

    Maybe.
    اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
    اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔


  • #2
    Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

    Alone by Maya Angelou
    Lying, thinking
    Last night
    How to find my soul a home
    Where water is not thirsty
    And bread loaf is not stone
    I came up with one thing
    And I don't believe I'm wrong
    That nobody,
    But nobody
    Can make it out here alone.

    Alone, all alone
    Nobody, but nobody
    Can make it out here alone.

    There are some millionaires
    With money they can't use
    Their wives run round like banshees
    Their children sing the blues
    They've got expensive doctors
    To cure their hearts of stone.
    But nobody
    No, nobody
    Can make it out here alone.

    Alone, all alone
    Nobody, but nobody
    Can make it out here alone.

    Now if you listen closely
    I'll tell you what I know
    Storm clouds are gathering
    The wind is gonna blow
    The race of man is suffering
    And I can hear the moan,
    'Cause nobody,
    But nobody
    Can make it out here alone.

    Alone, all alone
    Nobody, but nobody
    Can make it out here alone.
    اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
    اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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    • #3
      Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

      A Conceit by Maya Angelou
      Give me your hand

      Make room for me
      to lead and follow
      you
      beyond this rage of poetry.

      Let others have
      the privacy of
      touching words
      and love of loss
      of love.

      For me
      Give me your hand.
      اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
      اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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      • #4
        Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

        Woman Work by Maya Angelou
        I've got the children to tend
        The clothes to mend
        The floor to mop
        The food to shop
        Then the chicken to fry
        The baby to dry
        I got company to feed
        The garden to weed
        I've got shirts to press
        The tots to dress
        The can to be cut
        I gotta clean up this hut
        Then see about the sick
        And the cotton to pick.

        Shine on me, sunshine
        Rain on me, rain
        Fall softly, dewdrops
        And cool my brow again.

        Storm, blow me from here
        With your fiercest wind
        Let me float across the sky
        'Til I can rest again.

        Fall gently, snowflakes
        Cover me with white
        Cold icy kisses and
        Let me rest tonight.

        Sun, rain, curving sky
        Mountain, oceans, leaf and stone
        Star shine, moon glow
        You're all that I can call my own.
        اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
        اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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        • #5
          Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

          The Lesson by Maya Angelou
          I keep on dying again.
          Veins collapse, opening like the
          Small fists of sleeping
          Children.
          Memory of old tombs,
          Rotting flesh and worms do
          Not convince me against
          The challenge. The years
          And cold defeat live deep in
          Lines along my face.
          They dull my eyes, yet
          I keep on dying,
          Because I love to live.
          اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
          اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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          • #6
            Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

            Remembrance by Maya Angelou
            Your hands easy
            weight, teasing the bees
            hived in my hair, your smile at the
            slope of my cheek. On the
            occasion, you press
            above me, glowing, spouting
            readiness, mystery rapes
            my reason

            When you have withdrawn
            your self and the magic, when
            only the smell of your
            love lingers between
            my breasts, then, only
            then, can I greedily consume
            your presence.
            اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
            اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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            • #7
              Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

              Million Man March Poem by Maya Angelou
              The night has been long,
              The wound has been deep,
              The pit has been dark,
              And the walls have been steep.

              Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
              I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
              Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
              You couldn't even call out my name.
              You were helpless and so was I,
              But unfortunately throughout history
              You've worn a badge of shame.

              I say, the night has been long,
              The wound has been deep,
              The pit has been dark
              And the walls have been steep.

              But today, voices of old spirit sound
              Speak to us in words profound,
              Across the years, across the centuries,
              Across the oceans, and across the seas.
              They say, draw near to one another,
              Save your race.
              You have been paid for in a distant place,
              The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
              Have paid for our freedom again and again.

              The night has been long,
              The pit has been deep,
              The night has been dark,
              And the walls have been steep.

              The hells we have lived through and live through still,
              Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
              The night has been long.
              This morning I look through your anguish
              Right down to your soul.
              I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
              I look through the posture and past your disguise,
              And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

              I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
              I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
              I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
              Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
              Let us come together and revise our spirits,
              Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
              Clap hands, let's leave the preening
              And stop impostering our own history.
              Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
              Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
              Courtesy into our bedrooms,
              Gentleness into our kitchen,
              Care into our nursery.

              The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
              We are a going-on people who will rise again.

              And still we rise.
              اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
              اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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              • #8
                Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                The Rock Cries Out to Us Today by Maya Angelou
                A Rock, A River, A Tree
                Hosts to species long since departed,
                Mark the mastodon.
                The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
                Of their sojourn here
                On our planet floor,
                Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
                Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
                But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
                Come, you may stand upon my
                Back and face your distant destiny,
                But seek no haven in my shadow.
                I will give you no hiding place down here.
                You, created only a little lower than
                The angels, have crouched too long in
                The bruising darkness,
                Have lain too long
                Face down in ignorance.
                Your mouths spelling words
                Armed for slaughter.
                The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
                But do not hide your face.
                Across the wall of the world,
                A river sings a beautiful song,
                Come rest here by my side.
                Each of you a bordered country,
                Delicate and strangely made proud,
                Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
                Your armed struggles for profit
                Have left collars of waste upon
                My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
                Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
                If you will study war no more.
                Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
                The Creator gave to me when I
                And the tree and stone were one.
                Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
                And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
                The river sings and sings on.
                There is a true yearning to respond to
                The singing river and the wise rock.
                So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
                The African and Native American, the Sioux,
                The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
                The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
                The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
                The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
                They hear. They all hear
                The speaking of the tree.
                Today, the first and last of every tree
                Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
                Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
                Each of you, descendant of some passed on
                Traveller, has been paid for.
                You, who gave me my first name,
                You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
                You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
                Then forced on bloody feet,
                Left me to the employment of other seekers--
                Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
                You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
                You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
                Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
                Praying for a dream.
                Here, root yourselves beside me.
                I am the tree planted by the river,
                Which will not be moved.
                I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
                I am yours--your passages have been paid.
                Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
                For this bright morning dawning for you.
                History, despite its wrenching pain,
                Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
                Need not be lived again.
                Lift up your eyes upon
                The day breaking for you.
                Give birth again
                To the dream.
                Women, children, men,
                Take it into the palms of your hands.
                Mold it into the shape of your most
                Private need. Sculpt it into
                The image of your most public self.
                Lift up your hearts.
                Each new hour holds new chances
                For new beginnings.
                Do not be wedded forever
                To fear, yoked eternally
                To brutishness.
                The horizon leans forward,
                Offering you space to place new steps of change.
                Here, on the pulse of this fine day
                You may have the courage
                To look up and out upon me,
                The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
                No less to Midas than the mendicant.
                No less to you now than the mastodon then.
                Here on the pulse of this new day
                You may have the grace to look up and out
                And into your sister's eyes,
                Into your brother's face, your country
                And say simply
                Very simply
                With hope
                Good morning.
                اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                • #9
                  Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                  Weekend Glory by Maya Angelou
                  Some clichty folks
                  don't know the facts,
                  posin' and preenin'
                  and puttin' on acts,
                  stretchin' their backs.

                  They move into condos
                  up over the ranks,
                  pawn their souls
                  to the local banks.
                  Buying big cars
                  they can't afford,
                  ridin' around town
                  actin' bored.

                  If they want to learn how to live life right
                  they ought to study me on Saturday night.

                  My job at the plant
                  ain't the biggest bet,
                  but I pay my bills
                  and stay out of debt.
                  I get my hair done
                  for my own self's sake,
                  so I don't have to pick
                  and I don't have to rake.

                  Take the church money out
                  and head cross town
                  to my friend girl's house
                  where we plan our round.
                  We meet our men and go to a joint
                  where the music is blue
                  and to the point.

                  Folks write about me.
                  They just can't see
                  how I work all week
                  at the factory.
                  Then get spruced up
                  and laugh and dance
                  And turn away from worry
                  with sassy glance.

                  They accuse me of livin'
                  from day to day,
                  but who are they kiddin'?
                  So are they.

                  My life ain't heaven
                  but it sure ain't hell.
                  I'm not on top
                  but I call it swell
                  if I'm able to work
                  and get paid right
                  and have the luck to be Black
                  on a Saturday night.
                  اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                  اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                  • #10
                    Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                    Insomniac by Maya Angelou
                    There are some nights when
                    sleep plays coy,
                    aloof and disdainful.
                    And all the wiles
                    that I employ to win
                    its service to my side
                    are useless as wounded pride,
                    and much more painful.
                    اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                    اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                    • #11
                      Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                      Momma Welfare Roll by Maya Angelou
                      Her arms semaphore fat triangles,
                      Pudgy HANDS bunched on layered hips
                      Where bones idle under years of fatback
                      And lima beans.

                      Her jowls shiver in accusation
                      Of crimes cliched by Repetition.
                      Her children, strangers
                      To childhood's TOYS, play
                      Best the games of darkened doorways,
                      Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of
                      Other people's property.

                      Too fat to whore,
                      Too mad to work,
                      Searches her dreams for the
                      Lucky sign and walks bare-handed
                      Into a den of bereaucrats for her portion.

                      'They don't give me welfare.
                      I take it.'
                      اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                      اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                      • #12
                        Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                        Passing Time by Maya Angelou
                        Your skin like dawn
                        Mine like musk

                        One paints the beginning
                        of a certain end.

                        The other, the end of a
                        sure beginning.
                        اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                        اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                        • #13
                          Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                          When You Come by Maya Angelou
                          When you come to me, unbidden,
                          Beckoning me
                          To long-ago rooms,
                          Where memories lie.

                          Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
                          Gatherings of days too few.
                          Baubles of stolen kisses.
                          Trinkets of borrowed loves.
                          Trunks of secret words,

                          I CRY.
                          اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                          اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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                          • #14
                            Re: Maya Angelou poetry collection

                            Refusal by Maya Angelou
                            Beloved,
                            In what other lives or lands
                            Have I known your lips
                            Your Hands
                            Your Laughter brave
                            Irreverent.
                            Those sweet excesses that
                            I do adore.
                            What surety is there
                            That we will meet again,
                            On other worlds some
                            Future time undated.
                            I defy my body's haste.
                            Without the promise
                            Of one more sweet encounter
                            I will not deign to die.
                            اللھم صلی علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما صلیت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔
                            اللھم بارک علٰی محمد وعلٰی آل محمد کما بارکت علٰی ابراھیم وعلٰی آل ابراھیم انک حمید مجید۔

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